Almosts and Maybes
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Or three times that Rabastan and Andromeda almost kissed, and one time they finally did.::for Danie


_For Danie_

_Word Count: 1553_

* * *

i.

She's eleven, and she hates these stupid formal events. Andromeda huffs, leaning against the wall. She envies Narcissa. Her younger sister is still too young to attend these things. If only Andromeda could be so lucky. She would give anything to be upstairs now, tucked away with a good book, oblivious to all this adult nonsense that shouldn't affect her yet.

Rabastan finds her, grinning as he holds up a plate. "Cake?" he asks.

Andromeda shakes her head, her chocolate brown curls thumping against her cheeks.

Rabastan shrugs before sinking his fork into the cake. "Suit yourself," he says. "But you look absolutely miserable."

"Hmm… I wonder why?" Andromeda rolls her eyes. It isn't exactly a secret that she hates having to attend.

"Come on," he says, lightly nudging her with his elbow. "Let's go for a walk."

She should decline. Her role is as an ornament so that her parents can dote on her and tell the world that she is such a good daughter. If she isn't there, if anyone notices that she's missing…

But the idea sends a shiver of excitement up her spine. She has always been the perfect daughter. Why shouldn't she be allowed to break the rules just once? Besides, it isn't like it's actually a rule.

Grinning, Andromeda nods. "Okay."

As she follows him, she feels a tug in her stomach. She should turn back. Rabastan is going to get her in trouble.

And yet she doesn't really care.

They end up in the garden. Andromeda takes a deep breath, smiling as the sweetly floral perfumed air fills her lungs. It's enough to make her forget that she shouldn't be here.

"Your parents keep a beautiful garden," he says.

She lifts her brows, curious. Most boys don't care about gardens.

Rabastan seems to sense her surprise. He shrugs, his cheeks glowing red in the soft moonlight. "Professor Sprout says I'm a natural Herbologist," he says.

Andromeda nods. She has another month before she can begin at Hogwarts, but she imagines she will be just as good. After all, she and her mother have spent hours upon hours in the garden, tending to each and every plant.

"The stars are pretty," he notes.

Again, she nods, unsure of what to say. She doesn't care for stars and constellations. Maybe it has to do with being named after a galaxy and always being associated with stars.

Rabastan steps closer, taking her hand. "And you," he says. "You look… Well, when your hair is curled like that… Andi, I think…"

He leans in, only to draw away within seconds. Andromeda doesn't understand why until she hears the heavy footsteps behind her. She turns. Judging by the look on her father's face, she isn't in trouble. Good. Her rather has quite the temper, and Andromeda doesn't want to end the night on the receiving end of his fury.

"There you are!" her father says. "Your mother was worried sick about you." He pauses and nods at Rabastan. "You too. Best run along."

"Yes, Mr. Black."

And when he leaves, Andromeda can't figure out why it feels like part of her has left too, or why, as she follows her father inside, it feels like the world has lost its color.

ii.

She's eleven and alone on the Hogwarts Express. Andromeda had hoped to sit with her sister, but Bellatrix has made it clear that she isn't welcome. There had been other compartments, of course, but she doesn't know how to make friends. Besides, when you're a Black, you're only allowed to befriend a certain type, and she isn't sure who fits in that perfect little mold.

The compartment door opens, and Rabastan steps inside, a grin on his thin lips. "Surprised to see you're alone," he sits. "I would have thought everyone would be tripping over themselves to befriend a Black princess."

Andromeda rolls her eyes, but there's no denying the smile that tugs at her lips. Rabastan is always teasing, but it isn't in a cruel way. If she's honest, she sort of likes it.

"Don't you have anyone else to annoy, Rab?" she asks, leaning back in her seat and stretching.

"Always. Lucky for you, though," he says, sitting beside her, "you're my favorite."

There's something about this closeness that makes her heart race. They had been this close a month ago in the garden, and they had managed to get closer.

And he does it again now. Rabastan leans in, his eyes on hers.

He doesn't get very far. The compartment door opens again, and a girl with dark hair and mischievous golden eyes pokes her head in. "Found them!" she calls as Rabastan pulls away, blushing.

"Dammit, Miriam!" Rabastan snaps. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

The girl sits across from them, grinning. "Miriam Flint," she tells Andromeda. A moment later, a boy with fairer hair but the same golden eyes enters. "And this is my brother, Michael."

Once again, she feels the weight of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. Once again, she can't explain it at all.

iii.

She's thirteen, and she meets Rabastan at the Three Broomsticks. "I thought we were meeting Miriam and Michael," she says, sitting across from them.

They have a window seat, as always. Andromeda loves the window seats the best. She stares out the window, watching as fresh snowflakes fall. The ground is already covered in a blanket of white crystals, but the snow continues. She doesn't mind it. Snow has always been her favorite.

"I think they decided to have lunch together," Rabastan says. "We'll meet up with them later at Honeydukes."

He's already ordered her a butterbeer. When Andromeda goes to reimburse him, he shakes his head, pushing her hand away before she can reach her pouch of coins. "My treat."

"Oh. Okay," she says, sipping the warm liquid. Heat floods her body, melting away the last lingering traces of winter.

"Don't you just love the snow?" she asks with a content sigh.

"Not really. My lungs…"

"Oh."

Andromeda has heard the rumors. They say Rabastan has a Muggle disease. She doesn't know what that means or how much of the rumor is true, but she knows Rodolphus is like a mother hen, always fretting when Rabastan so much as coughs. She's curious, but she doesn't press the matter.

"You like the winter, huh?" he asks, chuckling softly. "It's funny. I imagined you more as a spring type."

"Why?" She tips her head to the side, studying him, searching for the hidden punchline in his words.

Rabastan shrugs. "Because there's something so soft about you," he answers. "Soft and lovely and good."

Her cheeks burn. She looks down at the table, unsure of what to say. Still at a loss for words, she takes her glass, drinking it until it's gone.

"Would you like another?"

"No." She climbs to her feet. "Let's go ahead to Honeydukes. I'd like to get there before Miriam buys all the Jelly Slugs again."

They're almost to the door when Rabastan stops suddenly. "Mistletoe," he says, nodding to the area above them.

Andromeda has never actually seen mistletoe, but it looks like what she would imagine it ought to look like. Green and plantlike. And it means…

She takes the step closer this time, and as she does, someone behind her clears their throat. "You're blocking the door, Andi."

Bellatrix is behind her, dark eyes narrowed as she impatiently taps her foot.

"Right. Sorry," Andromeda mutters, hurrying out the door, Rabastan on her heels.

As she walks along the snowy street, she sighs. Suddenly the snow doesn't like quite as inviting.

iv.

She's fifteen and reasonably sure she's going to fail her OWLs Astronomy exam. Maybe it shouldn't matter. After all, no career she pursues actually requires it. And yet she's still panicking because she wants so badly to be perfect.

Rabastan is good at it. He can name constellations better than anyone she's ever known, and he knows so much about each and every star.

"Thanks again," Andromeda says as she studies her star chart. To her, it looks like a bunch of dots with no rhyme or reason. "Whoever looked up at the sky and thought they saw bears and stuff must have been really drunk."

"Or, perhaps, they had a rich imagination," he suggests. "Shooting star. Make a wish."

Sure enough, there's a streak across the inky sky. Andromeda closes her eyes, not wishing for anything in particular. It's embarrassing, but she never knows what to wish for.

"Well? What did you wish for?" Rabastan asks.

She opens her eyes again, her cheeks glowing with warmth. "You can't ask someone that. If you tell, it doesn't come true."

He smirks and moves closer. "Rubbish. I wished to be able to kiss you, and watch this." He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "May I?"

Unable to speak, she just nods. Rabastan smiles before pressing his lips to hers.

They've been dancing around this for so long. For years, there have been too many almosts and maybes, but never any action.

And now, as their lips meet, it feels like it was all worth it, like every missed chance has been working to lead them here.

And all is right in the world.


End file.
